


it's time (look how far we've come)

by tascioni



Category: VIXX
Genre: Football | Soccer, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Road Trips, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:59:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tascioni/pseuds/tascioni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taekwoon and Hakyeon have a history, but it's high time everything fell into place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's time (look how far we've come)

**Author's Note:**

> AHAHAHA KMS THIS IS 11,040 WORDS I'M GOING TO DIE TT___TT  
> this is for mysa, as usual ♥ (and wren, too, i guess, because i'm only putting it on ao3 for you)  
> i don't know anything about soccer  
> i don't know anything about changwon or jinhae or jeonju  
> i've romanticized what i remember about walking around dongdaemun  
> JUST SUSPEND YOUR DISBELIEF AND ROLL LIKE A BUFFALO MAN IT'S 11K OF LEON AND I JUST WANT TO SLEEP.

  


  
The mid-summer morning air is a perfect start to the training season. Taekwoon jogs a lap around the field as he waits for the rest of the team to file in. Wonshik and Jaehwan come strolling out first, and they clap him on the shoulder in greeting.  
  
“So! Fearless leader,” says Wonshik, grinning widely. “Ready for the first unofficial scrimmage of the season?”  
  
Taekwoon grimaces and elbows them, rather hard. “Don’t slack off,” he says, impatient.  
  
“Yah,” says Jaehwan with a pout as he rubs his stomach. “Don’t worry, leadernim. We won’t make you look bad in front of your boyfriend!”  
  
Taekwoon kicks at him. Jaehwan ducks out of the way with a laugh.  
  
“Don’t slack off,” Taekwoon repeats sternly, and they salute him with identical smirks, the insolent brats.  
  
#  
  
Hakyeon and the rest of the Ulsan Hyundai team arrive in all their street-clothed glory. He wastes no time in launching himself onto Taekwoon’s back, declaring, “Winner buys dinner!” to the boos and hisses of everyone else.  
  
Taekwoon hoists him up more securely, anchoring Hakyeon’s legs with his arms because it would be a shame if he dropped Hakyeon on his ass and made Ulsan’s central midfielder have to sit out due to injury. Taekwoon just wants to win fair and square.  
  
Hakyeon leans in close, his breath ghosting Taekwoon’s cheek, and says, “Don’t worry, Taekwoon-ah. Today’s my treat.” and gives Taekwoon a pat on the back before hopping off and regrouping with his team. Taekwoon sees their goalkeeper, Sanghyuk, punch Hakyeon on the arm and yell about how he’s not paying for losers. Hakyeon merely grins, ruffling his hair fondly and tells him to shut up and play well.  
  
“I didn’t even bring any money,” Wonshik is grumbling when Taekwoon walks back over to his team. “Tell your boyfriend he’s paying regardless since he changed the rules.”  
  
Taekwoon rolls his eyes and tells them to shut up and don’t lose.  
  
#  
  
Ulsan Hyundai, of course, ends up stripping into their undershirts as an imitation of their away jerseys. Taekwoon catches Wonshik blatantly salivating over the lean centre-back and smacks him upside the head. “Close your mouth,” he says. “You’re catching flies.”  
  
As he tugs on his plain red shirt with _FC SEOUL_ emblazoned across the back, he catches sight of Hakyeon doing last-minute stretches as he talks animatedly to the rest of the midfielders. He seems to realize he’s being watched because he turns his head and catches sight of Taekwoon. He grins and winks. Taekwoon swallows and resolutely ignores the fact that Hakyeon has progressed to doing a straddle split and how he’s very nearly flat on the ground.  
  
#  
  
As much as he hates dealing with Hakyeon, there’s no doubt that Hakyeon is a very good football player and an excellent playmaker. He shouts out plays as he dances around Taekwoon’s defenders, and more than once, Taekwoon finds himself nearly screaming in frustration when Hakyeon’s team breaks through and takes a shot. It’s only Jaehwan’s well-honed instinct as a goalkeeper that saves FC Seoul from an embarrassing defeat.  
  
Hakyeon also seems to be able to read Taekwoon’s plays before he even makes them, blocking most of Taekwoon’s more textbook attempts to get by, but Taekwoon’s footwork has always been better, and after a few minutes of getting requainted with playing with Hakyeon, Taekwoon’s instincts take over and they manage two goals to Ulsan’s three.  
  
“I guess dinner’s on me!” Hakyeon calls cheerfully as they all head towards the locker rooms. He’s covered in sweat, and his shirt sticks to the hard muscles of his back.  
  
Taekwoon just nods mutely in acknowledgement.  
  
#  
  
“Hey, Taekwoon-ah,” Hakyeon says, bouncing up to him when he gets out of the shower.  
  
“Um,” says Taekwoon intelligently, because the towel around Hakyeon’s waist is wrapped obscenely low, and there’s several beads of water dripping down Hakyeon’s neck that Taekwoon has a sudden, overwhelming desire to suck off.  
  
“I need a shirt,” Hakyeon says, smiling brightly. “Mine’s gone missing.”  
  
Taekwoon raises an eyebrow.  
  
“It happens,” Hakyeon says seriously. “Anyway, do you have an extra?”  
  
“I think Jaehwan’s more your size,” says Taekwoon.  
  
“Maybe,” says Hakyeon. “Just not my style.”  
  
Taekwoon stares.  
  
“So,” says Hakyeon hopefully. “A shirt? Please?”  
  
Taekwoon sighs and digs through his bag, pulling out a wrinkled black shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. Hakyeon thanks him with a pat on the cheek and pulls the shirt over his head. It hangs loosely off his shoulders. The shirt was already a little big on Taekwoon; Hakyeon is practically swimming in it.  
  
Hakyeon waves goodbye, with the promise of meeting up at the restaurant later. Taekwoon finds himself waving back.  
  
"Sharing clothes already?" Jaehwan asks, popping beside him. "Don't forget to send me an invite to the wedding."  
  
"I will kill you first," Taekwoon promises, and Jaehwan pats him on the back, completely undeterred.  
  
#  
  
Somewhere along the way of his as-normal-as-it-gets career of professional football, Jung Taekwoon, secondary striker for FC Seoul, meets Cha Hakyeon, defensive midfielder of Ulsan Hyundai Horangi. In a twisted turn of events, when they’re both starting their fourth years in their respective teams, they both become captains, and that’s when Taekwoon really starts to pay attention.  
  
(Which would be true, if Taekwoon ignores the fact that he’s been keeping an eye on Hakyeon since their second year, when, in an official match between Ulsan Hyundai and FC Seoul with a minute on the clock, Hakyeon cleanly intercepted their play and sprinted across the field for the winning goal.  
  
He finds out, a year later, that Hakyeon is actually the one who starts setting up more practice scrimmages with FC Seoul, and when he asks why, Hakyeon simply smiles at him, beatific and guileless. “Because I like you,” he says, which Taekwoon had taken to mean, “I like playing your team,” but maybe that isn’t what Hakyeon meant at all.  
  
“Anyway,” says Hakyeon. “I see you’re no longer secondary striker.”  
  
“And you’re a center midfielder,” says Taekwoon, since they’re stating the obvious. “Figures. You’ve always been a better playmaker than Inguk.”  
  
Hakyeon beams.)  
  
#  
  
“Yah,” says Hakyeon from where he’s pressed up against Taekwoon’s side because someone thought it would be funny to seat twenty-four football players in a room meant for fifteen. “Your defenders were sloppy today.”  
  
He’s still wearing Taekwoon’s shirt but he’s swapped the basketball shorts for a pair of tight jeans that conform to his legs in all the wrong (right) ways.  
  
Taekwoon takes a drink of water. “I know,” he says with a frown. “And your new goalkeeper needs more practice.”  
  
Hakyeon laughs, grabbing a piece of meat off the grill and putting it on Taekwoon’s plate. “Baby Sanghyuk,” he singsongs. “We’ve got plenty of time to get him in shape.”  
  
The room is smoky and hot, loud from the chatter, and Hakyeon is a warm weight against him, comfortable and safe. Taekwoon kicks Jaehwan under the table for trying to snag the largest chunk of spare ribs, and he puts it on Hakyeon’s plate while Jaehwan sulks.  
  
“So Hongbin’s a centre-back now,” he says.  
  
Hakyeon nods approvingly. “Personally,” he confesses. “I think he’d be a perfect sweeper, but you know, management has been getting on us about offense.”  
  
Taekwoon silently agrees. “Thank you, by the way,” he adds. “For dinner.”  
  
Hakyeon smiles, and it’s shyer than normal. “It’s my pleasure,” he says, holding Taekwoon’s gaze. Taekwoon blinks, and Hakyeon looks away.  
  
His heart pounds, and he ducks his head, smiling to himself.  
  
#  
  
They spill out of the restaurant into the warm, late July night of Seoul, and Hakyeon hops onto Taekwoon's back like he fits there, easily slinging his arms around Taekwoon's neck. Taekwoon accommodates him accordingly, automatically reaching back to hold onto Hakyeon's legs.  
  
Everyone is still standing around, chatting idly, paying them no attention, and Hakyeon rests his chin on the top of Taekwoon's head.  
  
"Practice hard, yeah, Taekwoon-ah?" he says. "Next time, we won't go easy on you."  
  
Taekwoon chuckles, bowing his head, and says, "Focus on your drills. Your footwork was atrocious."  
  
He feels Hakyeon grin, and his chest tightens inexplicably; he feels Hakyeon brush his lips against his ear, feels the words "Pyeongsaengjiki," being mouthed along his temple, and the world just stops.  
  
When time starts again, Hakyeon is patting his shoulder amicably, and a bus is pulling in to take the Ulsan players home.  
  
He lets Hakyeon climb off, and the cool night air whispers a breeze across his back. As he waves along with the rest of his team and Hakyeon's face against the window becomes just another fleeting glance in the skyline, he stands in the parking lot, surrounded, but feeling oddly bereft.  
  
#  
  
Training starts in earnest, and there's no rest for the wicked, nor the weary when they're running drills for hours on end. The days grow longer and their formations tighter. The countdown to the K-League begins, and they all want redemption from last year's demoralizing defeat in the first round.  
  
They kick off the official start of the season with a match against Busan l’Park, and they win two to one. At the press conference afterwards, Taekwoon thanks his teammates for their hard work and promises their fans a good season. Their new wingbacks, Sungjae and Ilhoon, field a few requests for comments, and they both solemnly promise to work harder.  
  
"I'm very humbled," says Sungjae. "To play with such a great team. I still have a lot to learn, but our captain is very patient, and he's helped me a lot."  
  
Taekwoon looks down and plays with the cord of his mic. Their defense is still a little sloppy, he thinks, and he knows the coaches agree. But they're good kids with great potential, and Taekwoon hopes he'll be able to take them far.  
  
#  
  
K-League comes and goes in the blink of an eye. One moment, Taekwoon’s going over the schedules with the coaches, and the next, they’re standing in the World Cup Stadium, surrounded by tens of thousands of fans for the final match against Seongnam Ilhwa Chunma. He looks around the stadium, unsure of what he’s searching what for, until he spots a cluster of bright blue jerseys.  
  
Someone waves a FC Seoul flag in his direction.  
  
He turns back to his team. “Play hard,” he says with a small smile. “Don’t lose.”  
  
#  
  
Hakyeon is waiting for him in the locker room when they finally manage to stumble off the field, laughing and cheering uproariously for their successful reclamation of their title as K-League Champions. He’s not the only Ulsan player there, but he’s the one Taekwoon sees.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be here,” Taekwoon says, amused, the trophy heavy in his arms.  
  
Hakyeon grins at him. “Are you kicking us out?” he asks. “We worked so hard to get in, too. Sungjong danced.”  
  
“I did,” Sungjong says seriously, appearing from behind and resting his chin on Hakyeon’s shoulder. “You should let us stay, hyung. Congratulations, by the way.”  
  
“Thank you,” says Taekwoon. “It’s a shame we couldn’t play each other.”  
  
“It really is,” sighs Sungjong. “I was so looking forward to kicking your asses.”  
  
“So what happened in the semi-finals?” Taekwoon teases.  
  
“Wasn’t meant to be,” Sungjong sniffs. “Whatever. I hope you cream Jeju United at AFC.”  
  
“It would’ve been nice,” Hakyeon says wistfully, patting Sungjong’s head. “To go to AFC again.”  
  
“You played well,” says Taekwoon. “Work hard so we can go together next year.”  
  
Sungjong looks up at Taekwoon before slanting a glance at his own captain. “I have somewhere to be,” he decides and bounces off, catching an oncoming Dongwoo and pulling him away determinedly as Dongwoo protests about wanting to offer his own congratulations.  
  
“So,” says Hakyeon, looking down and playing with the hem of his jersey. “Congratulations,” he says.  
  
“Thank you,” says Taekwoon. He sets the trophy on the floor. “Hakyeon--” he begins, and falters, suddenly nervous.  
  
Hakyeon looks up at him curiously.  
  
“Are you fr--Are you guys staying? For long?” he tries. Hakyeon blinks at him.  
  
“We go back to Ulsan day after tomorrow,” he says. He’s smiling slightly, and Taekwoon can’t help but smile back.  
  
“We should have lunch, or something,” Taekwoon says. “Before you go.”  
  
“We should,” agrees Hakyeon. “I’d like that.”  
  
“We’re going out in a bit,” Taekwoon adds before he can lose his nerve. “To celebrate. If you guys want to come? Our treat, this time.”  
  
“Yes,” says Hakyeon with a laugh. “Tell me where and we’ll meet you.”  
  
#  
  
They end up going back to the same restaurant from months before because it’s the only one Taekwoon can think of off the top of his head, and the only other suggestion is a bar.  
  
(“You can’t drink,” Jaehwan reminds Wonshik.  
  
“I am twenty-three years old,” sulks Wonshik. “I can drink if I want to!”  
  
“Not with an alcohol allergy you can’t,” Jaehwan says seriously, and ducks to avoid Wonshik’s punch.)  
  
They have twice the number of people this time, so they end up splitting into two rooms. Hakyeon makes Sanghyuk move when he sees Taekwoon standing in the doorway uncertainly. Sanghyuk makes a face, but scoots over.  
  
“This is starting to become our second home,” Hakyeon jokes as Taekwoon sits down.  
  
“It’s too small,” says Taekwoon honestly. “The children will fight.”  
  
“Hey,” protests Sanghyuk.  
  
“See?” remarks Taekwoon. “Already discontented.”  
  
“I never agreed to this marriage,” says Sanghyuk. “I want it voided.”  
  
“Yah,” scowls Hakyeon, leaning across Taekwoon to smack Sanghyuk with his chopsticks. “Shut up and grill the meat.”  
  
#  
  
Near the end of dinner, Hakyeon quietly leads Taekwoon outside where they lean against the side of the building. Hakyeon is wearing a plain black shirt two sizes too big that looks oddly familiar. He smells of cheap beer and grilled meat, and the hand around Taekwoon's wrist is surprisingly soft and warm.  
  
They stand there in the shadows, inches apart, just looking at each other, and it feels more intimate than it has any right to. Taekwoon looks down at their hands, and he laces their fingers together, pleased by how Hakyeon's grip on him is firm and assured.  
  
"I'm not reading this wrong, am I?" Hakyeon asks with a small smile. "If I asked to kiss you right now?"  
  
Taekwoon's throat is dry as a desert so he swallows and nods instead. Hakyeon steps forward, flush against Taekwoon, and their lips brush in the lightest imitation of a kiss. “I like you,” Hakyeon says quietly. “Kind of a lot?”  
  
He laughs softly, nervously, so Taekwoon reaches up to cup his face in his hands and kisses him soundly.  
  
“I like you,” Taekwoon confesses. “A lot.”  
  
Hakyeon’s smile is luminous.  
  
#  
  
They meet for lunch when the sun is high in the sky, and Hakyeon is still blinking blearily at him as they sit across from each other, waiting for their bibimbap. He stifles a yawn.  
  
“We should’ve just gone to a spa and taken a nap,” Hakyeon says, rubbing his eyes. “How is it already one? I swear I just fell asleep four hours ago.”  
  
“Did you?” Taekwoon asks with a chuckle.  
  
“No,” says Hakyeon indignantly. “I went to bed as soon as we got back to the hotel!”  
  
“We shouldn’t have gone to karaoke,” says Taekwoon.  
  
“No, we definitely should have,” says Hakyeon. “But maybe we should have left after midnight.”  
  
“Sungjong really loves miss A,” Taekwoon says thoughtfully. Hakyeon scoffs.  
  
“When were you going to tell me you and Jaehwan moonlight as ballad singers?”  
  
Taekwoon ducks his head, but he’s pleased by the compliment all the same. Hakyeon is grinning at him when he looks up.  
  
“This is nice,” comments Hakyeon. “I could get used to this, having you to myself.”  
  
The food comes then, and Hakyeon segues neatly into rhapsodizing about how delicious it is while simultaenously wishing they could have gone to Jeonju. “Maybe when AFC is over,” Hakyeon decides. “We could avoid the film festival crowd.”  
  
Taekwoon smiles.  
  
“It’s about time FC Seoul claimed an AFC title,” Hakyeon muses. “Maybe Hanhae will stop being so obnoxious about it if you win. So please,” he implores. “Win.”  
  
“I didn’t know you knew Hanhae,” Taekwoon says, surprised. The world of professional football is small enough that everyone knows everyone, and Hakyeon’s always been a bit of a social butterfly, but somehow, Taekwoon never thought he’d know the Seongnam player.  
  
Hakyeon makes a face. “Our parents are close,” he explains. “He’s a brat, but a good kid. But a brat,” Hakyeon emphasizes. “He wants to use his connections to be a hip-hop artist once he retires,” he continues monotonously, like it’s an inevitable fact that he’s resigned himself to.  
  
Taekwoon takes a moment to process this, then laughs. “That’s an option,” he supposes.  
  
“One option,” says Hakyeon, frowning. “I’m still hoping he’ll remember how he wanted to study business when he was sixteen, but even when we were young he never listened to me, so.”  
  
Taekwoon chews thoughtfully. “It’s strange,” he says, swallowing. “To think about it. Retirement, I mean. We’ve been doing this for so long.”  
  
Hakyeon is watching him pensively, head propped up in his hand. “I’m retiring,” he says finally. “After next year.”  
  
Taekwoon blinks. “What?” he says.  
  
Hakyeon looks down, picking out some vegetables. “I’m retiring,” he repeats. “Next year.” He shrugs noncommittally, but Taekwoon can see the tenseness of his posture. “I’m just...tired. I don’t think I can do this any more, so. I’m retiring. My contract’s up anyway, and I mean--” he laughs awkwardly, like he’s confused and anxious, and Taekwoon finds himself reaching a hand across the table. Hakyeon places his palm on top of Taekwoon’s, and he frowns to himself. “I love football,” he says. “I love playing, but I think I’m done. I think it’s over for me. I’m just--I’m so tired, Taekwoon-ah.”  
  
Taekwoon squeezes his hand, because he understands. He gets it. It’s not easy, devoting your life to the sport. He knows how much Hakyeon’s had to give up, knows first-hand that when you’re plucked off your high school football field, you leave behind a lot more than just uneven patches of grass.  
  
Taekwoon’s tired, too, but Hakyeon sounds exhausted, weary. Eight years is a long time, Taekwoon suddenly realizes, and he looks down into his empty bowl and thinks weakly that perhaps he’s missed more than he’d like.  
  
#  
  
Taekwoon takes him to Dongdaemun, because Hakyeon insists on playing the part of tourist and bounces about excitedly as Taekwoon navigates their way through the thick crowd. The weight of their earlier conversation is still heavy on Taekwoon’s mind, but Hakyeon doesn’t seem burdened at all.  
  
He grins at Taekwoon when they stop in front of Pyeonghwa from behind his sunglasses, his snapback turned to the side. He looks much younger than the twenty-six years he is, and his smile is radiant and infectious, drawing away the somberness of the morning.  
  
He declares that he wants to buy a hanbok for his sister, and they spend the next few hours slowly browsing their way through the fashion market. Taekwoon buys a few scarves for his sisters, and it would figure that Hakyeon finally finds a suitable hanbok in the last stall of the building.  
  
It’s late afternoon by the time they re-emerge onto the streets, so Taekwoon suggests a walk along Cheonggyecheon to which Hakyeon readily agrees. The park is filled with families and couples enjoying a lazy Sunday while cars zip past overhead and the stream flows easily alongside them.  
  
They walk close enough that their hands brush constantly, and Taekwoon itches to reach out and entwine their fingers, but at the same time he doesn’t want to. It feels too intimate for such an open space, so he lets Hakyeon talk over him, listening with amusement when Hakyeon sighs heavily and complains about how there are no nice beaches near Seoul.  
  
“We should go to Busan,” Hakyeon muses. “We could go to Haeundae.”  
  
It’s almost dusk now, and people are starting to gather by the edges of the stream to wait for the night lights. Hakyeon picks out a spot of shade, and they huddle together, leaning against the concrete walls.  
  
“Haeundae sounds nice,” Taekwoon finally says. “I’ve only been once. I’d like to see it again.”  
  
He’s not sure what the future holds for him, but as they stand, fifteen feet below the streets of Seoul, watching the sun set behind Dongdaemun, Hakyeon clutching his arm and resting his chin on Taekwoon’s shoulder, Taekwoon dares to hope that they can face it together.  
  
#  
  
They do eventually make it back to the corner of Hakyeon’s hotel, where they stay, hidden in the back alley of a small convenience store. Taekwoon’s carrying their bags because he doesn’t trust Hakyeon not to accidentally lose his, and Hakyeon’s got his arms around Taekwoon’s waist, a bit preoccupied with licking his way into Taekwoon’s mouth.  
  
“I have to go,” he keeps muttering, not pulling away. If anything, Hakyeon presses closer and steals another kiss. “I really do have to go.”  
  
“Wait,” says Taekwoon, even though Hakyeon still hasn’t made any moves to leave. It’s going to be at least another month before they can see each other again, depending on how far Seoul can get at AFC, and just because Ulsan’s not going this year doesn’t mean they’re getting a break. He thinks, maybe, he could have some time off in June.  
  
“I have to go,” Hakyeon says again, regretfully. He leans in for one last kiss, and Taekwoon yields for him easily, savoring the moment for the weeks to come.  
  
The color is high in Hakyeon’s cheeks when they finally break apart, and he presses the back of his hand to his mouth. Taekwoon licks his lips. “Your things,” he reminds Hakyeon, handing him his bag.  
  
“Right,” says Hakyeon, lowering his hand and laughing nervously. He takes the shopping bag, and Taekwoon can’t resist pulling him in for one more kiss, swift and sweet, and patting his bangs flat so Hakyeon doesn’t look like he just spent half an hour making out behind a corner store.  
  
“Let’s go to Jeonju,” Taekwoon says, moving on to readjust Hakyeon’s hat. “After AFC.”  
  
“I’d really like that,” says Hakyeon, grinning widely. “Play well,” he adds.  
  
“I will,” Taekwoon promises.  
  
He watches in amusement as Hakyeon scurries back to his hotel, smiling when Hakyeon waves to him from the entrance.  
  
#  
  
During AFC, they play against China, Japan, and Australia, and they win. They lose to Sepahan Isfahan, the Iranian team, in the semi-finals. His team is sullen after the loss, but Taekwoon reminds them that they’ve done their best, and they’ve made an incredible comeback.  
  
“We’ll work even harder for next year,” Taekwoon says.  
  
“Hell yes!” shouts Wonshik, indignant. “I want that goddamn trophy!”  
  
“We’d be in for FIFA,” says Jaehwan dreamily.  
  
Taekwoon smiles at them, encouraging.  
  
#  
  
They get the rest of May and the entire month of June off, but their coaches are adamant about starting training in July. “We started early last year, and we’ve played better,” they say. “so this year, we’ll start even earlier.”  
  
The players grumble good-naturedly, but Taekwoon knows they’ll all show up on the fifth of July at 7 am, ready and willing to do whatever it takes to achieve their dreams of being the top team in the nation, and maybe, the world.  
  
He says good-bye to everyone and wishes them well. He spends May with his family, being clucked at by his mother for being too thin, listening to his father talk about the trip to Thailand taekwoon had gifted them for their 35th anniversary, and getting yelled at by his sisters for not spending enough time with them.  
  
He plays the most obnoxious game of phone tag with Hakyeon that lasts nearly a week before they manage to catch each other. Taekwoon asks if he still wants to go to Jeonju, and Hakyeon laughs and says yes, he’d love to.  
  
“You should come to Changwon,” says Hakyeon. “I can show you around.” and Taekwoon rather likes that idea so they make plans to meet the next week. When Taekwoon asks about hotels, Hakyeon simply scoffs at him.  
  
“My mother will kill me if she finds out I invited you, and you stayed in a hotel,” he says matter-of-factly. "Do you want me to die?"  
  
“No,” says Taekwoon, honestly, and lets it rest.  
  
#  
  
Hakyeon’s family receives him warmly when he arrives at Changwon Central Station in the second week of June. Hakyeon’s father pats him on the shoulder while his wife fusses over the lack of fat on his bones, just as Taekwoon’s own mother has done ever since he was eighteen and a newly drafted player for a team that most people actually knew about.  
  
Hakyeon just sighs in resignation behind them, and his sister offers Taekwoon a sympathetic smile. They all speak with a Gyeongsang accent that takes a few hours for Taekwoon to get used to, and Hakyeon grins apologetically when he catches Taekwoon trying to puzzle out what he just said.  
  
“Sorry,” he says. “The accent comes back when I’m at home.”  
  
“It’s fine,” says Taekwoon hurriedly. “It’s just different.”  
  
“Yeah,” Hakyeon laughs. “It’s definitely different, but it’s home.”  
  
#  
  
They spend a day in Sangnam-dong when the Sangnamsijang is open, and the farmer’s market is packed with shoppers and vendors shouting over them. Hakyeon weaves a way through the crowds, and Taekwoon is briefly reminded of the day they spent at Dongdaemun.  
  
Hakyeon’s hand is sweaty, and he pulls away more than once to wipe his palm on his jeans, but he never lets go of Taekwoon for more than a few seconds, slipping his fingers through Taekwoon’s like they’ve always been there.  
  
In the sea of people haggling over prices and the cacophony of butchers enticing everyone to take a look at their meats, nobody notices them, but Taekwoon is well aware of the smile on Hakyeon’s face that never falters and only grows when he turns to find Taekwoon smiling back.  
  
They pick out fresh vegetables, and Taekwoon finds a small stall selling hand-painted ceramics. He buys a set of bowls for his parents, before spotting a table of animal figurines. Hakyeon helps him pick out three miniature elephants for his sisters, and Taekwoon finds a tiger mixed in with the rabbits and buys it for Hakyeon, who laughs when Taekwoon gives it to him. Taekwoon ducks his head to hide his smile.  
  
“Horangi from Jungsuri,” says Hakyeon teasingly. “Thank you.”  
  
Taekwoon kicks at him gently, but that only makes Hakyeon grin wider.  
  
“Thank you,” he says again, more seriously, giving Taekwoon a quick one-armed hug. “I’m glad you think of me.” and if Taekwoon flushes, it’s because of their proximity more than anything.  
  
#  
  
Jeonju is less busy than Seoul or Changwon, and they take their time exploring the city and its food. They have a few days before they head back, and Taekwoon lets himself enjoy the moments they spend walking around strawberry fields and the Hanok village while eating their way through a year’s worth of bibimbap.  
  
Hakyeon links their arms together as they walk through the paper museum. It’s quiet as they walk through the rooms and examine the machines. There aren't many people here, possibly because it’s a weekday, but Taekwoon doesn’t mind. He lets Hakyeon lead them around, and sometimes ends up studying Hakyeon more than the displays, liking how Hakyeon reads the description of each object carefully before turning to Taekwoon and reporting his findings.  
  
The staff ask if they would like to make their own paper, and Hakyeon agrees excitedly, looking up at Taekwoon with hopeful enthusiasm. Taekwoon just nods and bites back a smile, and they roll up the sleeves of their shirts to get to work.  
  
While they wait for their papers to dry, Hakyeon takes out his phone and plays with the camera until he deems the angle just right and pulls Taekwoon close for a shot. Taekwoon barely has time to quirk up his lips when the shutter sounds, and he’s looking at a still-frame of himself with Hakyeon’s face pressed close, smile wide and open.  
  
One of the staff asks if they would like her to take a photo of them, and Hakyeon hands her his phone without hesitation. Their papers have dried now, so they hold up their sheets, and the phone clicks loudly to announce the moment captured forever.  
  
Hakyeon beams at the picture and sends a copy to Taekwoon with the flick of his thumb, and they walk over to a station where a set of stamps have been laid out.  
  
The girl who took their picture invites them to use the ink press, but Taekwoon declines, taking a brush instead, and Hakyeon does the same. he chews on the inside of his cheek, trying to recall the words he wants, while Hakyeon moves to the other end of the table, saying he wants to their works to be “a surprise.”  
  
He thinks about today, about the week he’s spent in Changwon, about the days in Seoul when Hakyeon slips into his life, vibrant and tangible, and he thinks about the days ahead, of crowds and games and blood, sweat, and tears.  
  
He thinks about how he woke up this morning, with the sun in his eyes, and Hakyeon slipping into his bed, fully dressed and freshly showered, smiling at him and asking where he’d like to go.  
  
 _이 하루는 저 강물의 한 방울이_ , he writes. _어느 산골짝 옹달샘에 이어져 있고  
  
아득한 푸른 바다에 이어져 있듯  
과거와 미래와 현재가 하나다._  
  
Like a drop of that river extends to a spring of a valley and then to the faraway blue seas, for this day, the past, the future, and the present are one.  
  
He pauses at the end of the stanza, lifting the brush gently. Today by Ku Sang had been one of his favorite poems in high school, and he thinks about how it holds an entirely new meaning, now that he’s older. The most shocking revelation, or perhaps the least, is how he no longer thinks of himself, but how he thinks of Hakyeon and his easy laughter, and the way it feels like minutes when it’s been hours, like days when it’s been years.  
  
He’s caught himself looking at ads for bigger apartments, checking the number of trains that run from Seoul to Changwon. He’s looked at rental agencies in Changwon, too, and wondered how many pairs of shoes he’ll have to buy to assuage his sisters should he ever tell them that he was leaving Seoul.  
  
It’s strange, he thinks, how everything that never seemed important when he was eighteen, are now the thoughts that weigh heaviest in his mind. And it’s not a bad weight, but a comfortable one, like a hot stone on a sore back.  
  
He looks down and smiles and writes, _이렇듯 나의 오늘은 영원 속에 이어져  
  
바로 시방 나는 그 영원을 살고 있다._  
  
So does my today extend to eternity, and right now I am living the eternity.  
  
That night, when they’re holed up back in their hotel room lounging on top of Taekwoon’s bed and watching a movie on tv, Taekwoon rolls over onto his back, and Hakyeon peers down at him from where he’s sitting cross-legged.  
  
“Have you seen this before?” he asks curiously. “We can watch something else.”  
  
“No, it’s fine,” Taekwoon assures him. “I just wanted to lie down.”  
  
Hakyeon hums in acknowledgement, turning his attention back to the screen. Taekwoon plays with Hakyeon’s hands, and Hakyeon lets him.  
  
His nails are clean and cut short, and Taekwoon rather likes his fingers, likes the way Hakyeon decorates them with heavy platinum bands. Hakyeon is wearing two rings on his right hand today, one each on his middle and ring finger. They’re warm to the touch, sharing Hakyeon’s heat, and Taekwoon toys with them, twisting them around.  
  
“You can take them off if you want,” Hakyeon says, distracted. Taekwoon does, slipping them off and inspecting them closely. One’s darker than the other, he notes, and there’s a small etching carved into the inside of the lighter ring. Taekwoon thinks it might be a star.  
  
He slides the rings back onto Hakyeon’s fingers, turns them to test the fit, and smiles to himself, satisfied. Hakyeon isn’t looking at him, eyes still glued to the movie, but he’s smiling softly, so Taekwoon sits up and kisses him gently on the cheek.  
  
Hakyeon turns to look at him.  
  
“Thank you,” murmurs Taekwoon, touching his nose briefly to Hakyeon’s and bumping their foreheads together. “For coming here with me.”  
  
“I’d go anywhere with you,” says Hakyeon without hesitation, and it settles some hidden anxiety in him that Taekwoon wasn’t even aware he had. The words are innocent and sincere, and Taekwoon kisses him because he doesn’t know what else to say, doesn’t know how to say it, so he kisses him, and Hakyeon kisses him back, sweet and gentle, and his hands find Taekwoon’s, his rings burning hot against Taekwoon’s skin.  
  
“Will you go to Jinhae with me?” Hakyeon asks of him, pulling back to study Taekwoon’s face. “When we go back Changwon, I mean. Can we spend a few days at Jinhae?”  
  
“Yeah,” says Taekwoon, surprised. “I’ve never been.”  
  
“Okay,” says Hakyeon with a pleased smile. “Good. I’ll get to show you around.”  
  
#  
  
They head back to Changwon, full of bibimbap and souvenirs, where they stay for a night before Hakyeon loads their things into his car, and they direct themselves south towards Jinhae.  
  
It’s not a far drive at all, but Hakyeon insists on staying a few nights because “you can’t come to Jinhae and not see at least one sunrise,” and Taekwoon can’t really think of a good reason to argue.  
  
Hakyeon sings along to upbeat pop songs on the radio, and Taekwoon hums occasionally when he hears a song he recognizes. They make a quick stop in front of an US Naval Base because Hakyeon wants a picture, and he’s driving so it’s not like Taekwoon has a say in the matter.  
  
They don’t quite manage to get a clear photo of both of them and the sign on the brick wall, but Hakyeon seems satisfied anyway. Taekwoon offers to take one of just Hakyeon, and Hakyeon grins at him from behind his shades while Taekwoon taps on the screen to increase the focus.  
  
“Smile,” murmurs Taekwoon.  
  
Hakyeon smiles obnoxiously and blows a kiss at him.  
  
#  
  
“We missed the cherry blossom festival,” Hakyeon informs him as he pulls into the tiny lot of their inn. “I got to see it once, when I was like fourteen. My parents brought me and my sister, and it’s probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. We should come again next year if our playing sucks, and we lose every game of the season.”  
  
“Or we could just come the year after,” Taekwoon suggests.  
  
“Oh, that’s right,” says Hakyeon. “I like that idea. Then only you have to suck, and my reputation can remain untarnished.”  
  
It surprises him, still, how easily Hakyeon speaks of his retirement, but he remembers a story his grandfather once told him of how the soldiers who cope best are the ones who make the best of what they have. He guesses that’s part of what makes Hakyeon such a great playmaker--an innate flexibility, coupled with a sharp, mental acuity that combines to become an unstoppable force. Hakyeon has never been one to lose himself in his troubles anyway.  
  
“I’m going to miss it,” Taekwoon admits, as Hakyeon turns off the engine. “Seeing you play.”  
  
“And I’m going to miss playing,” says Hakyeon truthfully, without any tinge of regret. “But I’m ready to move on. There are other things I need--and want--to do.”  
  
“Like what?”  
  
“School, actually,” Hakyeon laughs. “After eight years of training my body, I think it’s about time I went back to training my brain.”  
  
The salt-water air has begun to permeate the car, and Taekwoon sneezes. Hakyeon leans back in his seat, puffing out his cheeks thoughtfully. “I don’t know what I want to study yet, though,” he says. “Hongbin suggested sports medicine once, but I nearly fainted that time Hoon broke his leg at that Jeju match like four years ago? I never liked biology much anyway, I hated memorizing things in high school.” He laughs. “Took too much time away from football.” He smiles to himself at the memory, and Taekwoon studies the way his eyes seem out of focus and wistful, nostalgic.  
  
Taekwoon doesn’t bother pointing out that everyone who’d been there or seen the videos online had nearly fainted. The deafening crack of bone splintering and the anguished scream of pain that followed had haunted Taekwoon for weeks. Instead, he massages his own leg with a frown.  
  
“I don’t know,” Hakyeon sighs again. “I thought about business for a bit, like two seconds, but physics maybe? Football is technically all about physics, right? I figure my experience could give me an edge.”  
  
Taekwoon smiles. “Okay,” he offers. “Physics, then. Which schools have you looked at?”  
  
Hakyeon smiles sheepishly, and he doesn’t quite meet Taekwoon’s eyes. “Changwon National,” he says unsurprisingly. “Pukyong National, Pohang’s Science and Technology.” He scratches his throat, laughing nervously. The sun glints off a titanium ring. “Hanyang,” he continues, and Taekwoon stares. “Seoul National.”  
  
“Hanyang,” repeats Taekwoon carefully, just to be sure. “And Seoul National.”  
  
“And Changwon,” Hakyeon interjects. “And Pukyong and Pohang.”  
  
“You’d have to move to Seoul,” says Taekwoon.  
  
“But what if I go to Changwon,” says Hakyeon.  
  
“You’ve always lived in the south,” says Taekwoon. “What if it’s time for a change of scenery?”  
  
“Pohang counts,” says Hakyeon, stifling a smile behind his hand. Taekwoon leans over in his seat and kisses him.  
  
“It does,” he acquiesces, settling back into his seat. “But I’m glad you’re considering Seoul.”  
  
Hakyeon licks his lips. “I hear they have a great football team,” he says, encouraged. “Almost won AFC and everything.”  
  
Taekwoon rolls his eyes and reaches over to swat at his head. “You’re dumb,” he informs him, but Hakyeon’s grin is bright and relaxed, and he takes Taekwoon’s hand as they walk to the front office to check in.  
  
It’s nice to be wanted, to know that he’s important enough to Hakyeon that Hakyeon has factored him into the next five years of his life. It feels like they’ve tied themselves together in some three-legged race of life, and now they’re one step closer to the finish line.  
  
Hakyeon gets their keys, and he comes back to Taekwoon, happy and cheerful, clinging to Taekwoon’s arm as they walk past a row of doors. He talks about the cherry blossoms that are no longer in bloom and sighs regretfully in their memory.  
  
The view in their room faces the ocean, and Taekwoon stands by the windows, watching as the waves lap at the sand. Hakyeon’s on his bed, flipping through restaurant recommendations on his phone, punctuating the silence every so often to ask for Taekwoon’s opinion on a place he’s never heard of before frowning and scrolling on.  
  
The sky is reddened with the impending sunset, and Taekwoon suggests a walk along the beach to which Hakyeon readily agrees. The sand is soft and warm beneath their feet, and the water laps at them lazily.  
“It’s high tide,” observes Hakyeon, letting the sea washes over his ankles. The ebb and flow is soothing, and they walk to the edge of the beach in a comfortable silence until Hakyeon announces that he’s starving and sprints back towards the inn. Taekwoon blinks for several seconds before chasing after him, Hakyeon’s laughter singing in his ears long after they collapse in a tangle of limbs and kisses and salty, bitter sand.   
#   
He kisses Hakyeon that night, not for any particular reason other than because he wants to, because he feels like it. Because Hakyeon struggles to get out of his sweater and gets his arms caught in the sleeves, and Taekwoon has to rescue him before he strangles himself.  
  
He kisses Hakyeon because he likes him rather a lot, because Hakyeon is loud and overwhelming and kind and generous, and he makes Taekwoon want a life after football. He makes Taekwoon yearn for a future that’s still unclear, one separate from drills and trophies and laps around the pitch. So Taekwoon kisses him, because Hakyeon is a lot of things, and he happens to be here, in a tiny room by the shore of Jinhae, yielding to Taekwoon as easily as the waves give to the gravitational pull of the moon.  
  
Hakyeon pulls himself closer, straddling Taekwoon’s lap and kissing him with a fierceness that leaves them both breathless. He thumbs the back of Hakyeon’s neck when they part for air, and Hakyeon’s face is flushed red and his lips are shiny and wet.  
  
“I’ve never--” he begins, but cuts himself short. “I want you to fuck me,” he says instead, his grip on Taekwoon’s shoulders tightening minutely.  
  
Taekwoon doesn’t answer. He doesn’t trust himself to. He runs a hand through Hakyeon’s hair and kisses him again, slower this time, biting gently at his lower lip until Hakyeon moans quietly, rolling their hips together.  
  
"Wait," murmurs Taekwoon, because he's not any more experienced than Hakyeon is, but he knows enough to be aware that he is not prepared for this. "Wait. I don't have anything to--"  
  
"I do," Hakyeon interrupts with a nervous laugh. "It's in my bag because, um, I was hoping. Maybe."  
  
He climbs off, leaving Taekwoon alone in his bewilderment. He fumbles with his bag and tosses a small bottle and a condom onto the bed before settling himself back in Taekwoon's lap. "Um," he says. "So, can we?"  
  
Taekwoon just nods mutely because he's still trying to work through the fact that Hakyeon had thought about this enough to plan for it.  
  
Hakyeon slips a hand under his shirt, and Taekwoon helps him pull it over his head. He feels hotter without his clothes somehow, and Hakyeon doesn't help matters when the tip of his tongue darts out to lick the corner of his lips.  
  
He leans forward to bite at Hakyeon's neck, relishing in the small choked sounds that rise from the other’s throat. Hakyeon runs his hands down Taekwoon's sides, stopping only to skim over the top of Taekwoon's jeans.  
  
Taekwoon returns the favor, scratching lightly against the planes of Hakyeon's stomach, earning a stifled moan. He lifts hakyeon's shirt with a bit more care than he did with his own, and Hakyeon lowers his eyes as Taekwoon takes him in.  
  
His chest rises and falls with each breath, and Taekwoon peppers his jaw with kisses, trailing a line down across the curve of his shoulders. He tongues a nipple and enjoys the whimper it elicits, so he does it again and again until Hakyeon shudders beneath his touch.  
  
"Taekwoon," he pants, and Taekwoon kisses him, close-mouthed, until he relaxes again, going easily when Taekwoon pushes him down onto his back. His hands skate along the expanse of Taekwoon’s back, and he bites his lip when he tugs at Taekwoon’s jeans.  
  
He fumbles with the button, and Taekwoon says, as evenly as he can manage, “We--We don’t have to, if you don’t want--”  
  
“I do,” breathes Hakyeon. “I do, I just--” he flushes, and looks down, curling a hand around Taekwoon’s hip. “I’ve just--I’ve never done this before?” he laughs, nervous, and Taekwoon just smiles and kisses him gently, a gesture that he returns eagerly.  
  
“Idiot,” Taekwoon says. “It’s not like I have.”  
  
Hakyeon turns his head away, but his laugh is softer this time. Taekwoon takes the opportunity to kiss his jaw, and Hakyeon hums appreciatively. His hands are surer now when he reaches for Taekwoon’s jeans and pushes them down past his thighs. When his hands linger, Taekwoon brings them up and holds them in his own.  
  
He kisses the back of Hakyeon’s hand, brushes a thumb over his knuckles, and smiles slightly when Hakyeon meets his gaze. His heart is pounding madly in his chest, and when he kicks off his jeans and helps hakyeon out of his, it only beats faster and faster until Taekwoon could swear he feels it in his throat.  
  
Hakyeon’s legs are long and lean, the muscles toned and strong. The skin is smooth and unmarred, and Taekwoon takes his time to suck a bruise onto the back of Hakyeon’s knee, tonguing at the mark until Hakyeon mewls impatiently, until Taekwoon pushes himself back up and kisses him silent.  
  
Hakyeon rolls them over, pinning Taekwoon to the bed with a smile, and says, “You’re going to make me lose my nerve.”  
  
Taekwoon highly doubts this. In fact, he’s pretty sure he’s the one in danger of losing anything. “I’ve never done this before either,” Taekwoon reminds him, and Hakyeon ducks his head, worrying at his lip.  
  
“Do you want to?” he asks, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “I know I’m pushy, but we don’t have to--”  
  
“I’m fine,” says Taekwoon honestly. He takes Hakyeon’s hand again and interlaces their fingers. “This is just new.”  
  
Hakyeon swallows. “Okay,” he says, a bit breathless.  
  
He leans back to grab the bottle of lube, and Taekwoon watches wordlessly as he slicks his own fingers. "What are you--" he begins, but Hakyeon is squirming out of his boxers and sliding a finger into himself. Taekwoon's mouth goes dry at the sight of Hakyeon's cock, hard and leaking, and Hakyeon’s little noises of pleasure as he stretches himself open.  
  
His eyes are shut tight as he inserts a second finger, gasping "Taekwoonie," quietly, and Taekwoon pushes himself upright, letting Hakyeon lean into him, burying his face in Taekwoon’s neck as he fingers himself, his thighs quivering in anticipation.  
  
Each roll of his hips goes straight to Taekwoon’s dick, and Taekwoon can’t stop himself from moaning low into Hakyeon’s ear when Hakyeon ruts against him. “Please,” Hakyeon mumbles. “Taekwoon-ah, please, I want your fingers, too.”  
  
It’s hard, trying to grab the lube without dislodging Hakyeon, but Taekwoon manages it, manages to uncap the bottle with shaking hands, spilling copious amounts of lube over his fingers as Hakyeon continues to gasp desperately. He circles Hakyeon’s entrance in forewarning before pushing in, and Hakyeon lets out a whine that sends Taekwoon reeling.  
  
He’s burning hot and so, so tight, and the feel of Hakyeon’s fingers against his own has him sinking his teeth into Hakyeon’s shoulder to stifle a loud groan. “Taekwoon, Taekwoon,” Hakyeon chants, pulling out to let Taekwoon push in deeper.  
  
He grabs Taekwoon’s wrist, urges him to add a second and a third finger, until he’s visibly shaking, kissing Taekwoon sloppily and rocking against the outline of Taekwoon’s cock. He swears loudly when Taekwoon presses against that bundle of nerves, and his moans turn raw and ragged. Taekwoon’s boxers are completely ruined, soaked with pre-come, and Hakyeon reaches in, working him until he’s cursing under his breath and trying to focus on not coming right then and there.  
  
“Hakyeon,” says Taekwoon in a strangled voice. “Hakyeon-ah, _stop_ , I can’t--”  
  
“No,” pleads Hakyeon, lifting himself off Taekwoon and tearing open a condom packet with his teeth. He slicks Taekwoon’s cock with lube and braces himself against Taekwoon’s shoulders as he slowly takes him in, rocking his hips and uttering soft whimpers. Taekwoon steadies his hips with his hands, fighting the urge to thrust up into the tight heat.  
  
Hakyeon’s spine stiffens as he sinks down, and Taekwoon kisses him, slow and gentle, reaching between them to stroke Hakyeon’s cock.  
  
“I’m okay,” Hakyeon says in a small voice. “Just give me a minute.”  
  
Taekwoon licks his lips, and they tingle, kiss-swollen. “I’m right here,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the slit of Hakyeon’s cock, drinking the choked gasp that Hakyeon exhales. “ _Fuck_ , Hakyeon.”  
  
When Hakyeon starts to move his hips, Taekwoon moans roughly, thrusting in to match the rhythm he sets. The movement startles a cry out of Hakyeon, and his nails dig crescent-shaped indents into Taekwoon's back.  
  
Taekwoon isn't going to last long, not with Hakyeon moaning helplessly against him, punctuating each thrust with a sharp, breathy gasp of pleasure, his ass clenching around Taekwoon's cock tightly.  
  
The angle is awkward, but it does nothing to stave off his impending orgasm, not when Taekwoon pushes shallowly into Hakyeon, and Hakyeon fucking _keens_ , like he’s sobbing for it. His cock twitches in Taekwoon’s hand, and he’s coming, hard, coating Taekwoon’s fingers and striping their stomachs as he shakes apart, sinking his teeth into Taekwoon’s neck to muffle his cries.  
  
Taekwoon brings his hand to his mouth and licks it clean, the taste of Hakyeon bitter but not wholly unpleasant, on his tongue. Hakyeon eases himself off Taekwoon’s still-hard cock slowly with a quiet mewl of discomfort and settles himself between Taekwoon’s legs. He rolls off the condom and tosses it haphazardly into the trash can beside the bed.  
  
He forces Taekwoon to lie back, licking his lips in anticipation as Taekwoon complies. Taekwoon is expecting the hot, wet heat that envelopes him as Hakyeon swirls his tongue around the head of his cock, but there’s no way he could have prepared himself for the way Hakyeon sucks him inexpertly, but eagerly, messy and enthusiastic, taking Taekwoon in and then some, swallowing around him and hollowing his cheeks. The low, guttural moan that drags its way out of Taekwoon is far from forced, and when Hakyeon hums around him, he comes with a soft cry, shivering at the way Hakyeon swallows him dry.  
  
Hakyeon pulls off with an audible pop, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and smiling sheepishly.  
  
“Fuck, Hakyeon,” breathes Taekwoon, still swimming in the lingering aftershocks of pleasure. Hakyeon collapses beside him, equally loose-limbed.  
  
He doesn’t want to cuddle, exactly, but he’s decided he likes the feel of Hakyeon under his fingers, likes the way Hakyeon’s skin is always warm to the touch and how he fits neatly into Taekwoon’s hold.  
  
“Sorry,” says Hakyeon apologetically, brushing his fingers against the teeth marks on the curve of Taekwoon’s throat. The skin is unbroken, but when Taekwoon reaches up to feel for himself, the indentations are deep and tender to the touch.  
  
It’s definitely going to bruise, but Taekwoon doesn’t mind, really. Instead, he leans over and kisses Hakyeon softly, combing his fingers through Hakyeon’s hair because he doesn’t know what else to say and now doesn’t seem like the time for talking anyway.  
  
#  
  
Hakyeon is sitting cross-legged on Taekwoon’s bed when Taekwoon emerges from his shower. He’s changed into a familiar oversized black t-shirt, and his hair is damp against his forehead. He’s hunched over his phone and doesn’t look up until Taekwoon tosses him a sweatshirt.  
  
“You’re going to catch a cold,” Taekwoon says.  
  
“No, I’m not,” Hakyeon argues as he pulls the sweatshirt over his head. “Are you going to bed?”  
  
Taekwoon nods, lips quirked, and Hakyeon moves over hesitantly. “No, it’s fine,” says Taekwoon, padding over and sitting down. “Stay.”  
  
Hakyeon smiles, looking pleased. “I’m going to bed, too, though,” he says.  
  
“So stay,” repeats Taekwoon. “We fit.”  
  
“I sleep on the right,” says Hakyeon.  
  
Taekwoon rolls his eyes and moves to the left. Hakyeon laughs, and Taekwoon gets a hand around his for his trouble.  
  
And that’s how they fall asleep, curled towards each other, Hakyeon’s hand grasped loosely in Taekwoon’s beneath the sheets.  
  
#  
  
Hakyeon shakes him awake when the room is still dark. The digital clock on the nightstand between their beds tells Taekwoon it’s a quarter to five. Taekwoon rolls over, taking the sheets with him.  
  
“Taekwoon-ah,” says Hakyeon impatiently. “Come on, the sun’s going to come out soon.”  
  
It takes a few more attempts before Taekwoon is groggily sitting up and getting out of bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Hakyeon fusses with his hair while Taekwoon changes and doesn’t stop trying to smooth out his already flat bangs until Taekwoon plants a snapback on his head and adjusts it until Hakyeon smiles approvingly.  
  
He lets Hakyeon lead the way down to the shore, and the chilly morning beach air makes him shiver. The edges of the sky is just starting to pink when they sit down in the sand, Hakyeon sitting between his legs and huddled in on himself as Taekwoon holds him to his chest, resting his head on Hakyeon’s shoulder. His neck aches rather terribly, but as the horizon melts into a deep warm orange, he figures it’s not so bad.  
  
He presses his nose to Hakyeon’s cheek, feeling Hakyeon smile, fond. “Good morning,” he murmurs as the air starts to grow warmer with the lazily rising sun. “Happy Birthday.”  
  
“Thank you,” says Hakyeon, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to taekwoon’s temple. “Good morning.”  
  
There’s no one else around, so Taekwoon pulls him closer, his arms tightening instinctively around Hakyeon’s waist. “You should make a wish,” Taekwoon comments. “Before the sun’s fully up.”  
  
“I already got my wish,” says Hakyeon, smiling. “it’d be selfish of me to ask for more.”  
  
“It’s your birthday,” says Taekwoon.  
  
“Yeah,” says Hakyeon, his hand curling over Taekwoon’s. His fingers are ringless today, and Taekwoon rubs a thumb over his knuckles. “But I’m happy,” he says. “With what I already have.”  
  
Sometimes, like now, Taekwoon thinks Hakyeon is too easy to please. He’s toyed with the idea that perhaps Hakyeon’s always been a bit overlooked, but he knows that’s not true, not even close. Hakyeon just seems to have that sort of effect on people, his eyes wide and child-like and innocently curious. It’s hard, not to indulge him, if only a little, but Hakyeon takes each of these moments and treasures them, holds them close to his heart, and is genuinely delighted with each occurrence.  
  
Hakyeon, at twenty-six, incites a protectiveness in Taekwoon that he’s sure he’s not alone in. In Changwon, Taekwoon had watched as Hakyeon’s sister had scolded him for being too naive (“You’re not a child anymore,” she’d admonished.) as she made him honey cake. He also remembers when they were just barely twenty and starting to make their mark in the world of football, when they’d have their practice scrimmages and Inguk would ruffle Hakyeon’s hair when he fumbled with the ball, laughing and teasing as he corrected Hakyeon’s form.  
  
If Hakyeon is selfish, then Taekwoon is a glutton because these last two weeks have been the best vacation Taekwoon’s ever taken, and Taekwoon doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to drive back to Changwon nor say good-bye at the station and take his train back to Seoul. He wants to stay here, with Hakyeon, waking up for sunrises and getting sand in his shoes.  
  
He’s not ready for July; he’s not ready to give Hakyeon back to the world when he’s taken so long to make Hakyeon his.  
  
He spies the edge of a hickey, peeking over the top of Hakyeon’s jacket, and he presses his lips to it, memorizing the way Hakyeon shivers at the touch. There’s only three days left before he has to leave, but Hakyeon leans into him and Taekwoon dares to yearn for the lifetime ahead.  
  
#  
  
They walk to a nearby cafe for breakfast, and Taekwoon welcomes the aroma of fresh coffee while Hakyeon picks out pastries from the display. They sit at a small table by the window, watching as the beach slowly becomes more populated as the sun crawls higher.  
  
They steal bites of each other’s food, and Hakyeon offers a running commentary of anyone who passes by them. Taekwoon nearly chokes on his latte when Hakyeon says, nonchalantly, “Hey, isn’t that Wonshik?” tilting his head toward a teenage boy with brightly dyed orange hair with a skateboard tucked underneath his arms, scowling at his parents.  
  
He kicks Hakyeon for that, and Hakyeon laughs and doesn’t even try to move away.  
  
Taekwoon digs around the pocket of his sweater and pulls out a small, navy box. “Happy Birthday,” he says, sliding it over.  
  
Hakyeon puts down his tea in surprise. “You didn’t have to--”  
  
“I know,” says Taekwoon, scratching his neck. “But I saw it and thought you’d like it.”  
  
Hakyeon undoes the ribbon and pries the box open, and Taekwoon watches as his eyes light up in delight when he sees the platinum ring nestled in velvet.  
  
“Taekwoon-ah,” he says softly, admiring the gift in the sunlight, eyes crinkling at the way the metal glints in the rays. He squints to read the inscription inside, mouthing “ _byeolbich-ah,_ ” silently. His smile is pleased, and he ducks his head with a small laugh, cheeks flushed.  
  
“Do you like it?” Taekwoon inquires, his heart racing as Hakyeon slides the ring on.  
  
“I love it,” breathes Hakyeon, staring at Taekwoon in a way that makes his insides burn. He licks his lips and glances down at the table. “Are you done?”  
  
“Yeah,” says Taekwoon, throat dry. “Let’s go.”  
  
#  
  
Taekwoon fucks into him slowly, his hands sliding down Hakyeon’s waist as Hakyeon arches against him, eyes shut tight, moans soft and breathless. He trembles beautifully in Taekwoon’s hold, thighs hooked over Taekwoon’s shoulder, spine yielding easily to Taekwoon’s movements.  
  
He begs for Taekwoon to fuck him harder, crying out when Taekwoon complies.  
  
Hakyeon’s skin is flushed, and it makes the marks Taekwoon’s left on him stand out that much more. Taekwoon sucks new ones into his neck, drinking in the way Hakyeon pleads with him, like he could never get enough.  
  
Taekwoon thinks he loves Hakyeon like this, spread out beneath him, giving Taekwoon every bit of himself, eyes half-lidded and mouth shiny and wet. Hakyeon moves his legs down to wrap them around Taekwoon’s waist, and Taekwoon takes the opportunity to kiss him, groaning at how Hakyeon’s tongue curls around his, hot and needy and wanting.  
  
Hakyeon leaves ten long scratches that burn into his back, and he hisses at the way they tingle, exposed, but Hakyeon’s too far gone to notice, whining high in his throat as he urges Taekwoon to go faster. They’re both close now, and Taekwoon laces their fingers together, gently squeezing when Hakyeon grips him desperately, his ring digging painfully into Taekwoon’s skin.  
  
Hakyeon comes first with a sharp cry, and Taekwoon follows, not long after, collapsing on top of Hakyeon in a exhausted mess of sweat and come. They lie still, trying to catch their breath, and Hakyeon brushes the hair out of his eyes for him, tucking away the stray locks behind his ear.  
  
The sun is high now, seeping in through their window, bright and relentless, and Hakyeon kisses him slowly, easily, openly, and Taekwoon gives him all that he has.  
  
#  
  
Changwon Central Station is much busier than it had been when Taekwoon first arrived, almost three weeks ago. Tourists gather in their respective groups, chattering in their native tongues.  
  
Taekwoon’s things are packed away in his bags, and Hakyeon’s mother had pushed an extra bag filled with food and treats on him for the trip. He passes the canvas shopping bag into his left hand when it starts to cut into his right.  
  
Hakyeon is silent in front of him, playing with the button’s on Taekwoon’s shirt and smoothing out wrinkles that don’t exist.  
  
Taekwoon wants to kiss the sadness of Hakyeon’s eyes, but they’re in public and he knows better, so he lets Hakyeon continue to fuss over the things that don’t matter, even as his departure time ticks nearer and nearer.  
  
“I’ll see you soon,” Taekwoon reassures him, pressing a thumb to the corner of Hakyeon’s eye. (It comes away wet.)  
  
“Yeah,” says Hakyeon, not looking up. “Um, practice your drills and your defense. Stop going easy on Wonshik, his footwork’s not going to get better if you keep babying him.”  
  
Taekwoon smiles and nods. “I could say the same to you, for Sanghyuk.”  
  
“Sanghyuk _is_ a baby,” murmurs Hakyeon. he sniffs quietly, and Taekwoon pulls him close, lets him bury his face in Taekwoon’s shoulder, obscured from the noisy crowds. He pats the back of Hakyeon’s head soothingly, ignoring the way his own chest feels like it’s about to cave in on itself.  
  
“I love you,” he says quietly, wiping away the moisture on Hakyeon’s cheek with the sleeve of his cardigan.  
  
Hakyeon swallows and rubs at his eyes furiously. “Why would you say that,” he says in a strangled voice, blinking fast.  
  
“Because it’s true,” says Taekwoon, pressing a swift kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you in August, yeah? It won’t be that long, so practice hard.”  
  
Hakyeon nods. His eyes are red, and he still looks so sad, so Taekwoon cups his face with his free hand and kisses him quick, but soft, brushing Hakyeon’s lips with his thumb when he pulls away. Hakyeon swallows again, and his voice is stronger this time when he looks at Taekwoon and says, “I love you. I’ll see you soon?”  
  
Taekwoon smiles. He fixes Hakyeon’s hair and gives his cheeks one last pat. “August 3rd,” he says.  
  
Hakyeon returns the smile, and echoes, “August 3rd.” His eyes don’t quite carry the same level of happiness Taekwoon’s gotten used to seeing, but they are hopeful, and that makes Taekwoon feel a little better.  
  
“We’ll go to Myeongdong,” promises Taekwoon.  
  
“Okay,” says Hakyeon. “I’d like that.”  
  
An announcement crackles across the station, and Hakyeon brushes an invisible piece of lint off his shoulders. “You have to go,” he says.  
  
“I do,” agrees Taekwoon.  
  
Hakyeon steps back slowly. “Be safe,” he says, tugging at the hem of his sweater.  
  
“Be careful,” Taekwoon returns, earning a small smile. “And good luck,” he adds. “With school.”  
  
There’s another announcement, and Taekwoon glances up at the clock, frowning at how the hands seem to be speeding along much faster than they should. Hakyeon gives him a little wave, and Taekwoon switches the bag of food back over to his right hand. It aches painfully where the strap cuts into him.  
  
“I’ll call you when I get to Seoul,” says Taekwoon.  
  
“Okay,” says Hakyeon. He scratches behind his ear, and Taekwoon glances at the ring-- _his_ ring--on Hakyeon’s finger. He feels a little more relaxed.  
  
He heads towards his train, turning back at the bottom of the stairs to see Hakyeon still looking after him, and waves.  
  
Hakyeon waves back.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
 **epilogue.**  
  
“I’ve done a lot of things,” Hakyeon is saying on Taekwoon’s tv screen at an end-of-the-season press conference. “I’ve been to a lot of places. I’ve played in tournaments and world cups, and I’m really grateful. I’m really grateful for Coach Hwang who scouted me back in high school and asked me to play for the best team in Korea. I never dreamed that I would be playing for the AFC Cup, and I never imagined that I would be a part of the FIFA World Cup.  
  
“I’m also grateful for my teammates because--” he looks down, and Taekwoon can see him struggle to maintain his composure.  
  
His hand twitches towards the remote. “--I’m grateful,” Hakyeon continues, a slight waver in his voice. “I’m really grateful, for my teammates, who have always given me everything I asked of them and more, and I have asked for a lot.”  
  
The room laughs, and Hakyeon laughs too, eyes shining. "And for my family? I don't know how to thank you. I don't know the words to describe how much it's meant to me to have had you encourage me since before I could walk. My father, for giving me my first ball; my mother for believing in me even when I didn't believe in myself; and my sister, for being my goalkeeper, even when she was studying for her college entrance exams.  
  
“I’m really thankful, that they could indulge me for as long as they have. I hope I’ve been able to show them that I am no longer the youngest son Hakyeon, the baby of the family, but someone with the strength to carry our family forward. My sister has been doing an incredible job, and I hope to be able to do the same."  
  
“What are your thoughts on your last season?” someone asks.  
  
“Well,” says Hakyeon, grinning. “I can’t think of a better way to finish my career than to have brought the AFC Cup back to Korea.”  
  
The room erupts in cheers and applause at his words, and Hakyeon stands up along with the rest of the team. “Thank you,” he says in closing. “For all the support you given me and Ulsan Hyundai Horangi. I love you. Thank you.”  
  
Taekwoon smiles at the screen as he watches Hakyeon wave at the cameras. The clamor of the crowd is faded out, and the reporter steps back into view, segueing neatly over to the weather.  
  
“Oh God,” says Hakyeon, from behind him. Taekwoon clicks off the tv, and Hakyeon shuts the door to the apartment as he toes off his shoes. “Why are you watching that?”  
  
“I liked what you said,” Taekwoon says, lying down for a well-deserved afternoon nap. “It was very sincere.”  
  
Hakyeon mutters something that sounds suspiciously like how he wasn’t going to cry you know.  
  
“Your orientation packet came,” Taekwoon says. “I put it on the table.”  
  
He dozes to the rustling of papers and opens his eyes only when he feels the sofa sink under Hakyeon’s familiar weight. Hakyeon is still holding the giant envelope from Hanyang, and he’s smiling softly at Taekwoon. Taekwoon blinks at him.  
  
“I love you,” says Hakyeon, twisting the gold ring on his finger that has since replaced the platinum one Taekwoon gave him a year ago.  
  
Taekwoon cocks his head. “I love you, too,” he says without hesitation. his heart beats reassuringly, and he lets Hakyeon sprawl out on top of him, tucking his chin over the top of Hakyeon’s head.  
  
“I’m tired,” complains Hakyeon. “I thought retiring was supposed to relax me.”  
  
“So sleep,” says Taekwoon, running a hand down Hakyeon’s back.  
  
“Shut up,” says Hakyeon, burrowing deeper into Taekwoon's chest. “I’m getting there.”  
  
---


End file.
